


Prompt #55: "I don't mind."

by Xylianna



Series: Xy's 100 Ways Challenge [34]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Impression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna
Summary: Ivaar stands on the Hatching Sands. Set several years afterDragonscourge.





	Prompt #55: "I don't mind."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forkbeard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forkbeard/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRO!
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [aliatori](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori)!
> 
> This is set in the same world as _Dragonscourge_ , but I believe can be read and understood as a stand alone.

The midday sun was hot, and hauling firestone sacks made one feel even hotter. But, the course of candidate classes complete, they had to keep busy somehow until Impression, and Assistant Weyrlingmaster Aranea had decreed they may as well get used to the chores now since everyone in a Weyr pulled their weight.

Not that Ivaar was unused to a hard day’s work. Growing up as the eldest son of a Herdmaster in Keroon, he was used to being up before dawn and spending his entire day busy with chores. It was all worth it though in the evenings around the hearth with his family, talking and playing games.

Until that momentous day a fortnight ago when blue rider Setzer of Insomnia Weyr had stopped at their Hold, focused his violet eyes on Ivaar, and told him that his dragon liked the look of him. Ivaar had tried to protest, but his parents were so proud to have a child chosen by the Weyr. Besides, he had two brothers who could stay and help with the family trade.

It was an honor to be chosen by the Weyr, and not one to argue.

So here he was, hauling sacks of stone, no longer startled every time he heard the flap of wings overheard, though the sight of the dragons sunning themselves on the rim still caused his heart to stutter and his breath to catch.

A low, resonant humming interrupted his reverie. Ivaar looked around, confused. Was this some new instrument the harpers were practicing with? The sound was… expectant, was the only feeling that _fit_ , and Ivaar wondered what it betokened.

“Back to barracks!” one of the other candidates shouted, a weyrbred lass whose name escaped Ivaar. “It’s time!”

Ivaar ran just as fast as the rest of them, his eyes wide. The Hatching! It was finally here!

Would he be found worthy, be joined with a dragon for the rest of his life? Or would he be left standing on the Sands, sent back to Keroon on the morrow?

He shucked his dusty work clothes and pulled on the white, shapeless candidate’s robe with alacrity, sliding his feet into sandals with thick soles to prevent burns on the scorching sands. The eggs needed the heat to harden, his feet didn’t. In a jumbled mass, the candidates spilled out through the entryway, stopped a few feet in by the arched eyebrow of Aranea and the gimlet stare of Weyrlingmaster Cor. Feeling an embarrassed flush burn on his cheeks, Ivaar squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and walked more sedately in the direction of the cluster of eggs. He swallowed his fear as Fleurenth bugled stridently, her head low over the clutch. She hissed as the candidates approached, but Ivaar saw the Weyrwoman soothe her partner, and Fleurenth withdrew her head with one final rumble.

Ivaar knew it didn’t really matter where he stood. While some believed proximity was key, minds knew no distance; when the dragon was hatched it would look for its destined partner no matter how far away they stood. He let the others crowd close, and then chose a place near enough he could see the eggs rocking, but not so close that he’d be trampled in the excitement of human or dragon.

The crack of an egg, while expected, was still startling, and Ivaar craned his neck to see which one had broken. As he looked around, two more shattered, the creels of baby dragonets filling the air. Ivaar filled his mind with loving, welcoming thoughts, trying to breathe evenly and stay calm. His hammering heart betrayed his excitement, and as he watched the newborns pair off with their riders, he found himself holding his breath, brown eyes round as he whipped his head from side to side to try and take in all the action.

As the Hatching Grounds slowly emptied, bonded pairs exiting to find the dragonets their first meals, Ivaar moved closer, walking right in the middle of a cluster of eggs. Hopefully not too close where he’d impede the newborns’ progress, but maybe there was something to the idea of being near.

 _Where are you?_ Ivaar gasped at the feeling of another mind touching his, of another’s words sounding in his psyche as clear as his own thoughts. _Why can’t I find you?_

Spinning around in place, Ivaar’s keen eyes scanned for a hatchling without a human, but to no avail. His mind was filled with the mental equivalent of draconic keening, and he began to jog in a zig zag pattern, careful to avoid the unhatched eggs, dragonets, and people.

_There you are!_

Ivaar stopped immediately, halting in place and looking around. There, on the far side of the Hatching Grounds, surrounded by three young men wearing hopeful expressions, was the most perfect, tiny, glistening bronze dragonet that Ivaar had ever seen. To be fair, he hadn’t seen any before today. But this one was the best.

This one was his. 

Hastening over to the newborn, careless of the way he stumbled into one of the other youths, Ivaar knelt down and gently touched the crown of the bronze dragonet’s head. His eyes met that faceted rainbow gaze, and such a profound sense of joy, love, and _belonging_ filled Ivaar’s heart that tears spilled on to his cheeks.

In one glance… Impression was made.

“I’m sorry it took a while to find you,” Ivaar said, staring into that jewel-like gaze.

 _I don’t mind_ , Parapeth crooned, rubbing his head against Ivaar’s hand. _We are together now. That’s what matters._ They stayed like that for several long moments that Ivaar wished would never end; he knew he’d remember his Impression until the end of his days.

 _So hungry,_ Parapeth whined piteously, and Ivaar didn’t think to question how he knew his dragon’s name. Of course he would know, just as Parapeth learned everything about Ivaar from the moment their minds joined together.

“Let’s find you something to eat,” Ivaar said, standing and brushing the sand from his robe. He reached to help the youngling walk, but Parapeth’s indignant hiss caused him to draw back his hand. Clearly born with an ample measure of bronze pride, Parapeth was determined to walk all by himself. It was an ungraceful, toddling procession they made, other Impressions still happening all around. But Ivaar had eyes only for his dragon, admiring the small wings and ungainly gait, the perfectly wedge shaped head holding those sparkling, intelligent eyes.

Parapeth was his, and Ivaar was Parapeth’s, now and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting/kudosing! <3


End file.
